


passing in between us

by billionairevolleyboysclub



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fantasizing, M/M, Masturbation, Post-Time Skip, it's a fantasy everything is vague, vaguely unrequited bokuaka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:55:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28683633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/billionairevolleyboysclub/pseuds/billionairevolleyboysclub
Summary: His hand travels lower, spurred on by the gathering haze in his mind driving his thoughts toward a place he typically avoids.He wonders if Osamu would get mean with him. Osamu makes him feel both grounded when he’s around and like an opportunity that can turn into smoke under his hands at any moment. Osamu can’t possibly wait forever.Akaashi thinks once again about Bokuto.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu
Comments: 4
Kudos: 89





	passing in between us

**Author's Note:**

> un beta'd i'm sorry

The tension in his chest is still there in the morning. 

It’s a visitor that’s long overstayed its welcome, that was never welcome in the first place, Akaashi thinks to himself, eyes still screwed shut against the sliver of sunlight escaping his curtains. 

He flips over in his bed, trying to will away the thought of all the papers on his desk and emails still unread in his inbox. 

He breathes in, nose smushed against his pillow. 

Maybe he could scroll through his phone a little before he gets up. 

That’s probably a bad idea. 

He lets his mind roam again, convincing himself with only a small amount of anxiety that it’s entirely ok to sleep in for another few minutes. 

He lets out the breath.

It’d been a hard week followed by a hard weekend. He closed his inbox Friday evening to the tune of coworkers still asking _could I get a status update on this?_ and set himself as “away” on every work platform he could, feeling the pressure work its way up his spine to settle in the base of his neck. 

Yesterday, he had an impromptu Facetime call with Bokuto, who was in Kyoto for the weekend for a practice match. 

_“Hey hey!”_ Bokuto had let out when Akaashi answered, his bright face popping up to fill the screen. _“Akaashi! How are you?”_

_“Good, Bokuto-san,”_ he lied, quickly steering the conversation to ask about the Jackals’ upcoming match. 

“ _I have to go,”_ Bokuto eventually said, head whipping around as someone (Hinata?) called his name out offscreen. _“Think we’re heading to the bus soon.”_

_“Good luck,”_ Akaashi said politely, the edges of his mouth curling up in the best soft smile his current mood had to offer. 

Bokuto’s pixelated face smiled in return, but there was a tentative edge to it that told him Bokuto still had something on his mind. 

_“Akaashi-san,”_ he said, his smile dropping into something approximating concern. _“You know you can tell me if something’s wrong? If there’s anything on your mind.”_

Akaashi’s heart clenches at the memory, just as it had then. 

“ _Of course,”_ he responded. _“Of course I do, Bokuto-san,”_ he repeated, just to say something else. 

Bokuto had smiled genuinely then, promising to text him after the match and Akaashi nodded, trembling hand hitting the “end” button as soon as he could.

The Black Jackals won the match, as expected. 

He hadn’t told Bokuto that his work drives him to tears more regularly than it has any right to. He hadn’t told him he’s two years out of college, six years out of high school and sometimes still nothing feels as important as it did standing next to Bokuto on that court all those years ago. 

He twists his head on the pillow once again. 

There are a lot of things he hasn’t told Bokuto-san. 

His mind turns again to the concerned look on his face before it drifts to the picture Bokuto texted him after the match. It was a front-facing photo of him smiling, still sweaty and in his Black Jackals jersey in the locker room after the match. He could still see the remnants of the match excitement, of the satisfaction from the win, in his eyes. 

Funnily enough, he’d also caught Miya Atsumu, standing in his briefs and arms up as he pulled his jersey up over his head, in the background of the picture. 

_“whoops!!!!”_ Bokuto had texted back when Akaashi pointed out that there’s definitely rules against taking pictures in the locker room for this reason. 

It _was_ kind of funny, Akaashi thinks to himself. Since Miya Atsumu is not quite the Miya that he would like to see shirtless, given the chance. 

Akaashi sighs, hand traveling out from under his pillow to rest on top of his chest. He feels the steady beat of his heart under his fingertips. 

No, not Miya Atsumu. Not that he has any right to the other one either. Or Bokuto. 

His hand travels lower, spurred on by the gathering haze in his mind driving his thoughts toward a place he typically avoids. 

The tension in his chest is still very present. He doesn’t allow himself this often. 

The stack of papers on his desk is easily pushed to the back of his mind by the growing warmth rising to his cheeks. He lets his breath fill the back of his throat, thinking about the last time he saw Miya Osamu. 

They ran into each other on the train of all places, when Akaashi was finally heading home for the night and Osamu was heading god knows where. Akaashi’s cheeks were still warm from where he’d brought both hands up and slapped himself in his office’s bathroom, willing away the panic of a looming deadline before the feeling could derail his entire evening. He still had work to do tucked away in his bag, weighing his shoulder down when Osamu stepped foot into the same busy train car. 

_“Myaa-sam,”_ Akaashi had let out accidentally, surprised to see the man in Tokyo. _He usually mentions when he’s around,_ a small voice whispered in his ear. _Why didn’t he this time?_

Osamu’s head snapped up, brow furrowing in confusion before his eyes landed on Akaashi in surprise. 

_“Akaashi-san,”_ he said, expression melting into something harder to place. _“Fancy runnin’ into you here,_ ” he continued, maneuvering politely around the crowd until he came to a rest in front of Akaashi, tight space pushing them a little closer than Akaashi perhaps would like. 

He looked good, Akaashi remembers, really good. 

“ _There’s someone that migh’ wanna to invest and help us open_ _that Tokyo branch ya’ asked about,”_ Osamu had explained when Akaashi asked. _“I woulda told ya but I’m only here for a few hours unfortunately.”_

“ _No worries,”_ Akaashi responded. _“There’s always next time,”_ he continued before he could stop himself. 

_“Yeah.”_ Osamu had smiled, looking mildly like the cat that caught the canary. “ _Next time.”_

_Next time_ still hadn’t happened. Though he’s always had the impression that _next time_ could really be any time, if Akaashi would only make the call. 

They text, occasionally. They’re… friends. They talk about Osamu’s business or Tokyo’s neighborhoods or the last Jackals match. 

He’s surprisingly funny and incredibly careful, Akaashi has learned. Careful in a way that says _I could be less careful, bolder, if you’d like_. 

He thinks about grey eyes narrowing into something different, something measuring, after the initial surprise on the train. 

Sometimes, he thinks, he would like that. He would want that. 

Akaashi’s hand has reached the waistband of his sleep pants at this point, fingertips trailing across his lower abdomen. 

He moves his hand firmly into his pants, finally gripping himself through the slightly damp fabric of his boxers. 

_Fuck_ , he breathes out, pulse jumping at the first taste of satisfaction. He moves his hand up and down himself slowly, blood beginning to thunder in his ears. 

It’s not like he hasn’t thought about it seriously before. Of picking up the phone and letting Osamu cross the threshold of his apartment, push him up against his own walls and maybe just break him open. 

Osamu would be so good at it too. 

Akaashi groans, throwing his head back as he finally reaches underneath his boxers, taking his leaking cock into his hand.

Part of it feels too close to home. Which is why he hasn’t done it. 

Like opening his front door and seeking affection among his own neighbors.

Part of it feels like betrayal. 

A shadowy figure begins to form in his mind, a broad, solid form that would weigh down the bed right next to him and look so good hovering over him. 

“ _Do ya need any help?”_ the Osamu in his thoughts asks, looking down at him, ( _through_ him, the tinny voice in his head supplies), with a lidded gaze. 

Akaashi shakes his head internally, self-denying in even his most indulgent moments. 

_“No,”_ he would breathe out, hand stilling on his own hot skin. He grips himself tighter at the base, relishing in the sudden cessation. 

He hadn’t realized how worked up he was getting. 

_“Really?”_ Dream-Osamu continues, propping himself up on a single elbow right next to Akaashi’s head. _“‘Cause it looks to me like ya could use a little help.”_

Akaashi doesn’t respond to his own train of thought, too focused on once again picking up the pace. He takes his free hand and runs it across his chest, feathering over his pebbled nipples fleetingly. 

Maybe Osamu would grab his wrist, stopping the hand across his chest. 

_“Oh baby,”_ he would say. “ _Let me do that for ya.”_

Akaashi chokes on his own breath, rapidly bringing two fingers up to meet the wetness of his tongue. 

It’s been a while since he’s done this and he doesn’t even think he has the right supplies, but that won’t stop him from teasing himself. 

He digs his heels into the mattress, hips coming up and hard cock brushing his stomach as he moves his wet fingers down to circle his hole.

_“So pretty,_ ” Osamu says, dark eyes gazing down at him with heat. His fingers would be larger, thicker, the suggestion of them hovering just out of reach. Akaashi grinds his hips down, imagining it. 

_“Ya know I could take care of you like this.”_ Osamu continues. “ _I could fill ya up–”_

Akaashi whimpers.

_“–so that you’d never be empty again,”_ Osamu promises in his dreams. 

Akaashi moans, head thrashing to the side of his pillow as he pushes just the tip of a finger firmer against himself. 

Above him, whatever is passing in between him and Osamu is shifting, fantasy changing taste quickly and he’s not quite sure he likes what is coming up on his tongue. 

_“You’re so good,”_ a different voice says, ringing out brightly from the crevices of his mind. 

_No,_ Akaashi thinks to himself, _I can’t._

_“So amazing, Keiji,”_ Bokuto’s voice continues in his head, followed by the visual of Bokuto himself, sweat dripping down his collarbones like he’s seen so many times before, back in the shared locker rooms. Only this time, the sweat would travel down that sharp plane of his chest, maybe even drop down against Akaashi’s chest. 

Where Osamu is all dark and abstracted angles, Bokuto is pure radiance. He knows Bokuto. Knows him in and out of each illuminated corner. 

A total star.

Akaashi’s mouth falls open, panting suddenly. He feels close. Close to orgasm or tears he isn’t sure. 

Probably both. 

Bokuto would run a broad hand up his ribcage, cupping him, saying, “ _I miss you so much Keiji.”_

Akaashi bites his lower lip in frustration, hand rapidly pumping his cock as he resists the urge to push his rapidly drying fingers in deeper. 

“ _Always do.”_

He’s losing it. Losing the plot now for sure, he thinks, mind quickly and unconsciously flitting through the residual images and sensations still hovering in his thoughts as he gives himself over to the sheer bodily pleasure. 

He wonders if Osamu would get mean with him near the end. Osamu makes him feel both grounded when he’s around and like an opportunity that can turn into smoke under his hands at any moment. Osamu can’t possibly wait forever. 

He once thought Bokuto might be within his grasp and yet never worked out the courage to grasp him. At least not in this way. 

He wonders if Osamu would put his hands around his neck. 

_Yes, yes, yes,_ Akaashi would chant, arching his neck into the imaginary grip both taking his breath and holding him whole. 

Maybe Osamu would blink at the intensity, but he’d catch on, Akaashi thinks. Catch on to what Akaashi needs. To what exactly is happening here. 

Akaashi thinks once again about Bokuto. 

Would he be jealous if he found out exactly what Osamu got to do to him?

_Would he even notice,_ a smaller voice inside him asks. 

Akaashi arches up, release hitting him suddenly and without warning. A wet sob catches in his throat as he feels his sanity slip back down the hill, a cold relief in his spine already threatening to overtake the enveloping warmth of his orgasm. 

_God,_ he thinks, stilling his hand and letting his sweaty head drop back down against the cool fabric of his pillow. 

_Fuck,_ he thinks, throwing his forearm over his face. 

He lays on his back, breathing _in_ and _out_ and _in_ and _out_ before he opens his eyes, eyelashes damp. 

He lets his eyes adjust to the faint sunlight streaming in, fingers twitching against his own throat. 

He thinks about the stratosphere. 

++

Eventually he regains feeling in his limbs, slowly rolling over as he prepares to lift his heavy body out of bed. 

He reaches over to his nightstand, picking up his phone and forcing his eyes to glaze over notifications he doesn’t want to see before settling on a certain contact. 

_Osamu, Miya_ stares back at him, no contact photo added. 

Akaashi swallows around nothing, putting the phone back face down on his nightstand. 

Maybe he’ll text back this evening.

**Author's Note:**

> i promise i will write happy osaaka soon but my brain is still exploring timeskip akaashi keiji, manga editor and unhappy with his pitiful [furudate's words, not mine] job!!
> 
> i wanted to explore stability and opportunity versus perhaps wanting what you think might hurt you. And how sometimes it can feel like they’re one and the same. 
> 
> (osamu being the opportunity vs bokuto being the thing deep in his bones akaashi knows he wants, but could maybe learn not to want if he (looping back around) gave himself the opportunity)
> 
> Alternatively: that 'the notebook' gif but as akaashi to himself: [what do u want????](https://img.tickld.com/quill/b/4/7/f/a/8/b47fa821d9d0308a65e2cbc7f809f6923ef25a10.gif)
> 
> comments always appreciated <3 ty for reading


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